


Constructive Interference

by Tassos



Series: Lycanthropic Optics: Werewolf!Sheriff AU [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Conversations, Derek needs a mentor, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Werewolf Sheriff Stilinski, werewolf school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-25 03:43:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12027390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassos/pseuds/Tassos
Summary: John takes a more proactive role in Derek's life, pack - whatever. Flailing around is not going to solve his problems with Scott, and the kids need a nudge in the right direction. Featuring a new job and another adventure at werewolf school.





	Constructive Interference

When Derek shows up at the station wearing his leather jacket, two-day old scruff, and an awkward smile for Wanda, John looks heavenward for a moment before going out to talk to him.

"Here." He shoves the application at Derek who takes it out of reflex. "Go home. Fill those out. Shave and put on a clean shirt. Then come back."

"What?" Derek is on his back foot and for once unable to hide it. 

John's pleased that he can still keep the young people on their toes. 

"I thought you said you had a lead on a job," Derek says.

"I do. This is it." John nods at the application.

"Sheriff," Wanda says, because she is no fool. She's pointedly giving Derek the once-over. The same once over that's probably lost Derek a lot of jobs before he could apply for them.

"Go," John tells Derek, who's still too stunned to argue and also wary enough of Wanda's reaction to get out of there.

"That boy is bad news," Wanda says as soon as the door slams shut.

"You wanted a guard dog," John replies. "He'll be fine."

The look Wanda sends him clearly says she thinks otherwise. John beats a retreat into his office before he spontaneously combusts.

* * *

Derek returns an hour later with the filled out forms, a clean shave, and in a dark blue button down shirt. He's still wearing his black jeans and boots, but John counts it as a win. He invites Derek into his office, and Derek sits in the chair across from his desk with what can only be described as suspicion. His back is straight and he looks like he's going to jump up at the slightest provocation.

John takes the application and puts on then takes off his reading glasses -- he doesn't need them anymore, which is as strange as his knees not hurting -- to go through it.

Derek has neat handwriting. He also has a short employment history and is a semester short of a college degree.

"You studied History?" 

"Yeah," Derek says defensively and braces himself for the follow up.

John returns to his application, having no intention of making fun of him. "You ever think about finishing?"

"No." It's a definitive answer, so John lets it lie for now. The important thing is getting Derek a job and some confidence and maybe a therapist. 

"Well, this looks in order," John says after a minute. "The main requirement of the job is being able to use the computer and know the alphabet, and I think you've got that covered."

"What is the job, exactly?" Derek asks.

"Receptionist. Wanda needs help at the desk covering the basic reports and routine work. Think you can handle that?"

Derek nods slowly. "You won't get in trouble for hiring me?"

"Let me worry about that," John says. "Can you start today?"

"I guess."

"Great. Wanda!" 

Wanda hasn't lost her skepticism when he introduces Derek as her new assistant, but she prints out the employment forms for Derek without complaint. She'll wait until she has John on his own before letting him have it about hiring him without consulting her, and that's fine. As long as she gives Derek a couple days to prove himself useful, he'll take the heat.

"Shouldn't you have interviewed me?" Derek asks as he fills out the forms in block capitals. "I thought this sort of thing was illegal."

"What sort of thing?" John frowns.

"Giving a job to someone you know just because they need a job."

"You're not my kid, so there's nothing to worry about."

Derek pauses long enough to raise his eyebrows at John. With that skepticism, he and Wanda are going to get along great.

John sits back in his chair feeling quite pleased with himself. "You're part of a pilot program to engage at-risk young people in meaningful work. It will keep you off the streets, out of trouble, help you develop skills and ethics, and allow you to develop ties to the community that will keep you from a life of crime."

The stare he gets is the cousin of the first, and John has a hard time not grinning.

Finally, Derek says, "I think I'm seeing where Stiles gets it from," which does make the grin break free.

"We're only trying to help you out," John replies.

* * *

John keeps an ear out while Wanda walks Derek through the computer system and the stacks of filing she's starting him on.

"Any questions?" she asks with a snap in her voice.

"No, ma'am," Derek replies. Smart man.

"The phone rings and I'm not here, you answer it politely with Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department and take a message. If it's for Sheriff Stilinski and he's here, press three to transfer it. If I hear of any complaints, I don't care what the Sheriff told you about this job, you're gone. You understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am," Derek says.

"Hmmph," Wanda snorts. But that's all she says before getting them both to work.

John gives it an hour of quiet, just to make sure Derek is settling in okay. The two trips he makes for coffee, Derek is standing at the counter with fifteen different piles of paper as he gets them sorted. He glances up each time John comes out of his office, immediately alert, though not alarmed, like he's aware of John and just tracking his movements.

John inhales when he passes the counter. The one benefit he's already noticing is Derek's presence staving off the headaches he's been dealing with from his extended senses. The coffee smells normal instead of overwhelming. Wanda's soap doesn't make him sneeze. He smiles and nods at Derek, making his fellow werewolf freeze for a moment before relaxing, jumpier than John's expecting after all. But John is optimistic that this will work out.

Returning to his office after the second trip, John closes the door behind him and picks up the phone. Time to tell the mayor about his new initiative before anyone else does.

* * *

On Derek's third day Stiles shows up at a quarter to five. John's on call for the evening and has been listening for the Jeep, so he isn't surprised. Through his open office door, however, he catches Derek freeze and tilt his head as it rumbles into the parking lot. 

John grins a little when next he hears Derek sigh, and he makes a strategic decision to go out and get more coffee. He's by the percolator with a good view of the door when Stiles rolls in with John's dinner filling up the station with the scent of roasted vegetables. 

"Hi Wan . . . da." Stiles is halfway through waving at the desk when he freezes upon seeing Derek there.

"Evening, Stiles," Wanda replies as usual, only raising an eyebrow and sticking her thumb Derek's way. "Don't mind him. He's new."

"Hey, Stiles," Derek says quietly.

Stiles's eyebrows are doing the thing where he's trying to make sense of everything very rapidly, and the next thing John knows, he's being pinned by his son's stare. He sips his coffee and waits.

Stiles gets as far as, "What is -" and then his lips press together and the confusion turns into a glare that John's not sure is directed at him or Derek.

"Derek is our new administrative assistant," John says mildly. "That dinner for me?"

Stiles eyes bug out a little, but he recovers well enough, says hello and then hurries around to John's office like a man on a mission. John shares a look with Derek, who actually goddamn smiles -- a flash of humor so unexpected that John's taken aback. It has him grinning for the walk back to his office, an expression he's careful to smooth out before he closes the door to his office behind him.

Stiles has set his dinner on his desk and he spins on John with his arms spread wide and then waving back and forth toward the door in what would be incomprehensible gesticulation if John didn't known his son so well.

"Stiles, put your arms down, you look ridiculous."

"Shhssht." Stiles makes a zip-it gesture, then grabs the nearest post-it pad and a pen and writes furiously for a second before shoving it at John. He can hear you!!!! it says.

"So can Wanda," John says, tossing the pad back at him, which doesn't seem to appease Stiles.

He writes furiously again. What is he doing here?!?! WTF!!! Why didn't you tell me?!!!

"Stiles, I'm not arguing with you through post-its."

"Dad!"

"I'm not! Derek needs a job. I need employees to get anything done around here. I don't see what the big deal is."

His last comment brings Stiles up short and his indignation turns into something more thoughtful. John lets him work through whatever it is he's working through and goes to sit down at his desk and find out what he's eating for dinner. Casserole, unsurprisingly. But the bits of bacon he smells when he opens the top are. John lifts his gaze back to Stiles who jumps when John calls his name.

"There's bacon in this. Should I be worried about something?"

Stiles rolls his eyes. "You've been working a lot lately. I'm being nice."

"Well good," John says, still suspicious as he gets up to go to the microwave.

Stiles follows him into the front room, and John hears him stop by Derek's station. "Hey, man," he says.

"Stiles," Derek replies with a note of caution in his voice.

From across the room, John can only see the back of Derek's head and Stiles with his arms crossed defensively over his chest, a barrier between the two of them. At the other end of the desk, Wanda is eyeing the two of them with that same watchful gaze she has for everything as she gathers her things to go home.

"This is the last place I expected you to get a job," Stiles says.

Derek shrugs. "It was your dad's idea."

"Well, obviously. It would never occur to you." Whatever expression is on Derek's face prompts Stiles to hurry on. "I just mean that you're you and, you know, have you even ever had a job before?"

"Thanks for your confidence in me. It's really heartwarming," Derek says dryly. "And yes, I have had a job before. Several in fact."

"Really?" Stiles's arms drop as his surprise makes his awkwardness go away. "Doing what?"

Wanda comes over to John by the microwave as Derek rattles through his history at a handful of minimum wage jobs. Stiles finds something to make fun of in each one.

"So that's why you hired him, huh?" Wanda says to him softly, nodding at the boys. "Mayfield said he mostly hung around teenagers. Didn't figure one of them was yours."

"They're good kids." The microwave beeps and John pulls out the tupperware. "Troubled, and Derek was trying to help them out, but he's practically as young as they are," John says.

"How did Stiles get involved?"

"Scott got mixed up with them," John says vaguely, but it's enough to satisfy Wanda. "How's he doing?"

Wanda gives him a sideways look, but it doesn't last long before she sighs. "He's a quiet one," she says. "But so far so good. Tomorrow, I'm going to have him start cataloguing complaints for follow-up."

"Gonna give him the crack-pots?" John grins.

"It's the best test I know for customer service," she says with a wink. "You have a good evening, now. Don't stay too late."

"I won't," John says. He's got a handful of more records to go through on the Hampton case before Mayfield is due for the evening shift.

Stiles is making fun of something Derek said while Derek frowns at him as John takes his dinner back to his office.

"Do you have to get him coffee too? I bet he's going to start doing that. Oh! You're going to have to do all the printing! Dad _hates_ the printer. He says he always has to print things like five times before they work. That's a valuable skill. Totally marketable with your coffee-getting ambitions."

"Derek! You're off the clock if you want to leave," John calls out to him.

"Thanks, Sheriff!" 

"Does that mean you're leaving too?" Stiles comes to his office door and leans in.

"I've got another hour," John says, closing the folder he's been looking at because he can already see Stiles trying to see what he's working on. "Don't you have homework?"

"Dad!"

"Shoo, Stiles," he says.

* * *

Derek settles into the office. Mayfield and Parrish take him to the bar for happy hour on Thursday, and at first Derek is hesitant, but Friday morning he actually smiles when Parrish says hello and they joke around for a few minutes. John pretends not to notice when Derek glances at him, looking for what, John doesn't know. Approval? Worry? 

John thanks Parrish later when they're heading to the parking lot to go on their patrols. "He's okay," Parrish says, with a grin. "Strikes me as a kid who needs to figure himself out and hasn't had a chance to."

It's a thought that sticks with John as he drives around town and makes him think of that nearly finished degree on Derek's resume. Where would he be if he hadn't come back to Beacon Hills?

* * *

When he gets back to the station at the end of the day, Stiles' Jeep is out front again. John inhales when he gets out of the car, unsurprised to scent both his son and Scott as he heads to the door. 

It's just Derek at the desk, and he looks both uncomfortable and defensive as he chats with the boys. Well, Stiles is chatting, leaning on both elbows over the top of the counter toward Derek. Scott stands beside him nodding along but not really looking directly at Derek, instead giving him sideways glances. Derek for his part is ignoring the fact that Scott is there at all, which, all things considered, at least has the benefit of not causing trouble.

On an inhale, John catches all three of the boys' scents mixed together, and he realizes belatedly that it's the first time he's seen Scott and Derek in the same place together. None of them startle at his arrival.

"It's a great idea. Like Princess and the Pea except with sausage. And smell. But you know what I mean," Stiles is saying. "Hey Dad, don't you think trying to find the sausage rolls would be an awesome thing for werewolf school? You'd be pro at it even without your new smellorama-nose."

"Sausage rolls, huh?" John says, meeting Derek's eyes, which crinkle a little as he gives a half-hearted eye-roll and a ghost of a smile. "I like sausage rolls."

"I know you do, which is why we should use them. Good motivation."

"The headaches going away is a good motivator for me," John says, coming around the counter to his office. Derek turns with him, and over his shoulder John sees Scott frown.

"Are you still messed up from the change?" Scott asks. 

John shakes his head to ease his concern. "The headaches have mostly gone away." His eyes flick to Derek but he doesn't add that having his alpha so close at work is what's done the trick. John almost feels like a regular person again.

"But you still need werewolf school, right?" Stiles says, craning his head around Derek. "We're still doing it this weekend, right?"

"Yep. Still on my calendar," John says going to his desk. "Scott, you coming?" he throws casually over his shoulder as he wiggles his computer mouse. He glances up in time to see Scott looking over at Derek who has folded his arms across his chest.

He shrugs. "If you want, it's fine with me," Derek says barely looking at Scott. "Everyone will be there."

Scott seems hesitant, so John fills the space as he glances through his email. "How's the trio doing? I haven't seen them in a couple weeks."

"Good," Derek says. "Boyd got an A on that history test. Erica and Isaac have been whining about a book in English that they're reading."

"The Scarlet Letter," Stiles fills in, with a weird note in his voice. John glances up again to see him giving Derek a skeptical look.

"What?" Derek says testily.

"Nothing," Stiles says.

"Didn't you have that same history test?" John asks his son.

"Yeah. I aced it."

"And Scott?" John catches Scott by surprise.

"Uh, I got, a, uh, C," Scott stutters.

"Hmm. Well, maybe you could ask Boyd for help next time," John says evenly.

"What about me?" Stiles squawks.

"Stiles, don't pretend you study like a normal person. If asking you for help worked, I'm sure Scott would be acing all of his tests in all of his classes by now," John scoffs. 

He scans through the rest of his email quickly. One from the forensic lab in Humboldt catches his eye. The analysis from the crime scene and the security video should arrive by early next week. Finally. It's only taken them two weeks to get their shit together.

Stiles is still nattering on in the background about "how awesome he studies" but John's tuned him out. "Derek, can you make a note to look out for the forensic delivery on Tuesday next week, and if it doesn't get here by then, follow up with the lab to see what the deal is."

"Yes, sir." Derek unfolds himself and roots around for a pen and a post-it. John almost laughs at the expressions on Stiles and Scott's faces, like they can't quite believe that Derek's job is an actual job where he does things.

After a prolonged silence, where John taps out an acknowledgement to the lab, Stiles says, sotto voice, "Did you just call my dad, sir?"

Before Derek can reply, John calls out, "I'm the boss, Stiles. And I can hear you." It sets Stiles stuttering and even gets a laugh out of Scott.

The two of them don't stick around for much longer. They have plans to meet up with Allison and Lydia -- John gets a pointed look to keep his mouth shut when Stiles mentions her -- and now that dinner has been dropped off and Derek has been thoroughly seen in his new position, they go.

Derek's shift ends soon, and John joins him in the reception area once the boys leave. "Coffee?" he offers, heading for the carafe.

Derek lets out a sigh, one hand scrubbing through his hair. "Uh, yeah. Please. Thanks."

"You okay?" John asks over his shoulder as he fixes two mugs. "Cream? Sugar?"

"Black. I'm fine," Derek says.

"But?"

Derek frowns at him as he comes back over to the counter. "But what?"

"I'm not some random stranger, you know. I can tell something's bothering you," John says, setting the coffees down between them. He takes an experimental sniff, trying out his werewolf senses deliberately. He smells Derek's usual calming scent and something slightly bitter, slightly sweaty underneath. John doesn't have a name for it, but after wearing Derek's undershirt and now having him in the office all day, he knows it's a reaction to something.

Derek holds up pretty well under his questioning stare, but the silence eventually gets to him. "I wasn't expecting them to come here."

"Stiles is here all the time," Johns points out mildly.

"I wasn't expecting Scott to come," Derek clarifies a little huffily. "I'm pretty sure he hates me."

"He doesn't hate you."

"You don't know that."

"I know Scott," John reminds him. "Trust me. I've seen it when he hates someone, and you are not one of them."

Really, there was only one person who held Scott's ire and that was his father. After the way he left, John couldn't say he blamed the kid.

"Then what would you call that?" Derek waves his hand vaguely at where Scott had been standing, but John's pretty sure he means a lot more than just his recent visit.

"The part where Scott stayed quiet and fidgeted when I asked about his grades?" John raises an eyebrow.

"You missed the part where he was warning me not to fuck things up for you and that I wasn't to abuse my position here. He was nice after you showed up." Derek's voice is low and annoyed, and he crosses his arms across his chest.

John sighs, mirroring him. "Look, I know things are fraught between you two, but if you want them to be better, you're going to have to be the one to make the first move."

"Me? Why me? He's the one -"

"Because you're the adult," John cuts him off right there. "You are eight years older than he is. If you want him to be part of your pack, you're essentially saying you want to be responsible for him -- hell, you've admitted you already feel like you are. There's no room for playing blame games when you're in charge. You have to take responsibility and move on."

"And forget that he's the one that invited a rogue pack into my territory?" Derek's scent shifts from something bitter and uncomfortable to something that John is dead certain accompanies the anger in every line of his body. He doesn't like it. Something in him that he's sure isn't there when other angry people are yelling at him recoils at Derek's raised voice, wanting to soothe him rather than merely keep the peace.

John takes a steadying breath. "I'm not saying forget. You look at what happened, figure out what went wrong in handling the situation -- which includes a hard look at yourself -- and come up with a solution to correct the problem so it doesn't happen again."

"You sound like you've got it all figured out," Derek snaps.

"I didn't say it would be easy," John says, struggling to keep from snapping back. "Don't look at me like that. It's basic management. Most people in the world are bad at it. You're in good company."

Derek's jaw clenches. It's not anything he wants to hear, but to his credit he doesn't deny it.

"And hey, you're not alone in this. Both Stiles and I want to help heal this rift between you guys."

He holds Derek's eyes, willing him to believe him. He's pretty sure Derek's been alone so long that he doesn't. Not yet. But John's hoping that will change. He looks away first, just a glance, to ease the tension, and after a long moment Derek's posture eases.

"How?" he asks, at a loss. His scent has shifted again. "How do I get him to trust me enough to tell me before someone else gets hurt?"

"Team building exercises," John says, picking up his coffee and finally taking a sip. He enjoys the confused frown on Derek's face.

"Is this another management thing?"

"Yep." John grins. "Stiles is calling it werewolf school."

* * *

Saturday morning, Stiles and John take two cars over to the Hale house. John's technically not on call, but they're so short staffed that he doesn't want to risk being stuck out in the Preserve if Mayfield needs him to come in. He beats Stiles there, since his son is picking up Scott. Isaac is sitting on the porch when he arrives, leaning back on his hands in a slice of sunlight.

"Didn't think I'd be the second one here," John says, conversationally as he walks up, pocketing his keys.

"You're not. Boyd had an idea for today so he's out setting up. Erica's following so she can cheat later," Isaac replies.

"Really? That's not fair," says John. Isaac's looking well. He still doesn't quite meet John's eyes when they talk, but he's not skittish either which is a good sign. His posture is relaxed, and when John takes a tentative sniff he doesn't scent anything that he's come to associate with fear.

Isaac shrugs, seemingly not concerned that Erica's going to wipe the floor with them later. "Derek said Scott was coming?"

"Yep. Stiles is picking him up now. They should be along soon."

"Cool. I didn't ever think Derek was gonna go for it," Isaac says.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, I mean. Ever since the thing with the Argents, they can barely talk to each other," Isaac says. "It's really getting annoying."

"So I hear." John sits beside him in the top step. "Have you been caught in the middle?"

Isaac shrugs again. "With Scott a little, when he wants me to tell Derek something, or tell him something that Derek hasn't told him. Derek's easier with it. He usually tells Stiles to tell Scott stuff, or Stiles will just tell him anyway." He smiles a little. "It's weird. I didn't really have friends before and now I'm stuck in the middle of all this drama."

"Life's a funny thing," John says. "I didn't expect to be caught up in all this drama either."

Behind them, John recognizes Derek's footsteps a half minute before the door opens, and his scent mixes with the pine and manzanita of the forest around them.

"Hey, Sheriff," Derek greets him, coming to sit on John's other side. John wonders for a second how much of their conversation Derek overheard, but then figures it doesn't matter.

"Derek. Isaac tells me Erica's going to cheat at whatever we have going on today," he says, and is surprised when Derek laughs. 

"I'm pretty sure she went with him so they could make out," he says. He tilts his head a little, considering. "And maybe cheat. But it shouldn't matter much. We can give everyone else a head start."

The sound of Stiles's Jeep on the access road has them all turning to watch where it will appear. It takes longer than John expects even though he can follow the sound of wheels on gravel the whole way in. Beside him Derek tenses as the Jeep parks and the boys get out, and John hears him take a deep breath.

Scott lags Stiles as they approach, a little wary at first, but he grins when Isaac waves, and any other awkwardness is subsumed in Stiles's chatter. Derek stays seated by John and gives the boys a quiet "hey" when they greet him.

"I brought all sorts of treats for you guys to sniff out," Stiles is saying. "We'll have to heat some of them up in the microwave first though."

"Boyd and Erica are setting up the first scavenger hunt," Derek says, making Stiles freeze before his face falls.

"But I said I had it covered!" he whines.

"Next round," Derek tells him. "Boyd got here first."

Stiles looks like he's about to say something in reply, but then his eyes dart to John and he thinks better of it. "Well, I need to put these in the fridge then," he says after a pause.

With everyone now arrived, they get organized. Boyd and Erica show up while Stiles and Derek are putting Stiles's bag in the fridge, and Isaac and Scott are talking lacrosse practice. They both greet John cautiously, but seem happy to see him. Boyd even asks if his control is better, and Erica asks if he really hired Derek to be a receptionist.

"He's good at it so far," John tells her, getting a disbelieving laugh that turns fond when Derek and Stiles rejoin them.

John observes while Boyd lays out the first game -- scent tracking to the first clue, then audio to the second, a visual one for the third and then rotate, and so on. He's nervous at being in charge and keeps glancing at Derek to check in. Derek for his part, doesn't say anything or give any indication of approval or disapproval. He just looks at Boyd while he gives his spiel with a steady stare that is a little unnerving, and it isn't even focused on John. Erica is flushed and grinning. John's ability to identify smells isn't good enough to pick up what she's feeling, but it doesn't need to be. John's fairly certain that Derek was right about her helping Boyd so they could have some alone time. But she seems excited about the game too. She hip-checks Isaac partway through the explanation, and the two of them share a conspiratorial grin. Stiles bounces on his toes, which is no surprise, and beside him, Scott's attention is divided between John and Derek. John smiles at him when their eyes meet, and Scott relaxes a little.

"Dibs on Erica!" Isaac says when Derek tells them they'll break into teams of two.

"All right," Derek says. "Scott, you good with the Sheriff? Stiles you're with me."

"Yeah!" Stiles bounces over to Derek, his earlier disappointment easily forgotten with a challenge to focus on.

"What do you say, Scott, think we can beat 'em?" John says, crossing to stand beside him. Scott gives him a grin that's pure confidence.

"We'll wipe the floor with them," he says, eyeing the rest of their competition.

"You wish," Erica taunts. Then Boyd is striding back a few steps, and the rest of them get ready to run. They'll start in different directions and whoever finds their four things first wins.

"Ready," Boyd raises his arms, "get set, go!"

* * *

Running around the woods with Scott is a little awkward at first. Scott takes the lead on their first clue, darting off and then looking back with guilt when John has fallen behind. For all that he can run better than he has in year, Scott is still less than half his age and fast. But he's kind about it, smiling shy encouragement without really saying anything. He looks like he wants to, but then his mouth shuts again and he runs off ahead. 

For his part, John enjoys pushing himself after Scott. The stretch and burn of his muscles are like old friends he'd forgotten about without the accompaniment of aches and pains. It feels good, fun even, and John doesn't hold back as he paces behind Scott, scrambling up and down hills and dodging around trees.

They're following the smell of old socks, and Scott's the one who finds them a few miles out with a rolled up piece of paper with "water" written on it to lead them to their second clue. 

Scott's waiting for him, barely breathing hard.

"You want to try listening for this one?" he asks John, holding out the piece of paper like it will help.

So John closes his eyes and focuses on the sounds around them. "Whoa," he says after a moment, his eyes opening again to catch on Scott's.

"What?" 

"I just wasn't expecting to be able to hear everyone so easily," John says. He can hear Erica laughing, Stiles grumbling, leaves being kicked up. "I was terrible at this last time."

"Everyone's being really loud," Scott says, as if that explains it.

John's not so sure as he goes back to listening for the brook he knows is out there somewhere. Since he hired Derek at the station, his senses seem to have returned to normal, except now that they're out in the woods, John thinks that, really, they've adjusted to his new normal. It's both reassuring and still incredibly weird to be able to hear things that part of him thinks he shouldn't be able to, like his new sensory abilities have finally been assimilated into John's own self-perception. His perception perception. Hah. He'll have to use that on Stiles later.

"This way, I think," he tells Scott, pointing to where the sound of running water's coming from. Scott gives him a big smile which means he must be on the right track. They break into a jog as they go off-trail through the trees.

They've been running in silence for a few minutes, when Scott breaks it. "Hey, Sheriff?"

"Yeah, Scott?"

"Why did you hire Derek at the station?"

John's leading the way, Scott behind him. "Because he needed a job."

"So he didn't earn it," Scott says, and John can hear an undercurrent there that he doesn't like.

"Finding a job in a new place can be hard, and most people get their first jobs from knowing people. I'm understaffed and he was available."

"So you believed his story about what happened," Scott says, and it's an accusation. John's been waiting for it.

"There are no sides here." John stops and turns to face him. Scott's got a scowl on his face, any trace of his earlier sunny mood gone. Teenagers. "You and Allison talked with Schwartz, and I have no doubt that he was as sincere and reasonable as you say when he said they just needed a place to lay low. And I believe Derek when he says that Gavin was dangerous."

"But that was Derek's fault!" 

"Scott, we're talking about a man who's idea of negotiating was to escalate. He came after Stiles for being friends with Derek. He got me instead. He tried to make me _murder_ someone. Do you really think that Derek telling him to leave justifies that kind of violence? If he'd stayed, would you want to deal with that kind of person on a regular basis?"

Scott is still scowling, and he drops John's gaze and stomps past him on the trail. John sighs as he watches him go. For all his blind spots, he knows Scott isn't stupid. On some level, he knows it's not really Derek's fault. Derek just happens to be there and convenient.

John trails after him, breaking into a run when Scott does, and that's all he gets until they get to the stream. The babbling brook is cluttered with leaves and it takes them some hunting to find the ziplock bag with their next clue. It's a half of an advertisement torn out of a magazine. John presumes that they have to find the other half, which should be visible from where they found the clue. The two of them start turning in slow circles looking for it through the trees. John, however, is distracted by the heavy silence between him and Scott.

"I'm okay, you know," John says after a minute.

"What?" Scott stops and stares at him.

"Being turned into a werewolf. I'm okay." John gives him a half smile that's not because it's funny but because he wants to reassure Scott. "It's nothing I was expecting -- believe me -- but now that my senses aren't giving me migraines, it's really not that different. A little weird sometimes, but not terrible."

"Yeah." Scott blows out a breath and he even offers up a small smile for John in return. "It was like that for me too. Except I just kept breaking things till I got used to it. My mom didn't like that."

"I bet she didn't." John could just imagine Melissa's reaction to broken door knobs and cracked counters. "But I'm okay. I don't need you to be angry on my behalf. There's no one to punish. Gavin's dead, whether I like that or not, and the only thing to do now is move on and learn to live with what can't be changed. That's what we're out here doing."

"But it's not fair," Scott says, a last gasp of frustration. "If only -"

"Nope," John cuts him off before he can get worked up again. "Wondering 'what if' isn't going to do me any good. It isn't going to do _you_ any good because there's no changing the past. We do better next time. Blaming Derek isn't going to help. Neither is blaming yourself."

Scott flinches at that, and John knows that he's found the stubborn kernel at the center of all this. Scott's always had a big heart. He's always wanted to help others out and hates it when he can't.

"It's not your fault, Scott. It's not Derek's either," John says gently. "He might have made Gavin angry, but Gavin was responsible for what he did with that anger. All we can do now is play the hands we're dealt as best we can." 

Scott just looks at him, a little lost maybe, definitely still upset. "I just wish it hadn't happened. And I wish Derek would just _listen_ to me," he says, frustration in every layer of his voice.

"Well, maybe having a job that requires him to practice answering the phones and be nice to people will help with that," John replies, getting a surprised pair of raised eyebrows from Scott. John grins at him while he mulls that over. "Now, come on. We're falling behind. What do you make of that yellow thing over there?"

Scott follows his pointing finger and agrees it might be the other half of their advertisement. They lope off towards it, and this time the silence is a more settled between them. Scott's quiet as they go, a furrow between his brow as he thinks. John doesn't intrude, other than to gesture for Scott to take the lead on tracking the scent of the pencil shavings which is their last clue. He gives an experimental sniff, scenting for Scott more than the clue, trying to read him. 

He's surprised to find that part of him seems to know exactly what Scott is supposed to smell like, that he can even recall subtle shifts throughout their run that he hadn't consciously been looking for. Maybe he is getting the hang of this werewolf thing after all.

* * *

Erica and Isaac win the round with John and Scott coming in second. From the way Stiles is gasping for breath, he and Derek were limited by his son's speed, but Derek doesn't look too bothered by losing. He's actually grinning at Stiles.

"You were the one who wanted to go all out," he says lightly. "I told you we didn't have to."

"You're supposed to be … the big bad … alpha," Stiles says between breaths. He's bent over with his hands on his knees. "I shouldn't be … a handicap."

"Looks like you've been skipping the conditioning Coach gave us," Isaac says with a grin that gets him a scowl in return.

"Shut up. And go away. I've got to set up my game." Stiles straightens up, grabbing Derek's shoulder when a head rush hits him. Derek steadies him with a hand on his elbow, and John notices Scott scowling at them. 

Their eyes meet when Scott feels John's eyes on him, and his scowl softens into something else, abruptly disappearing when Isaac hooks an arm around his shoulders, calls him a loser, and tugs him toward the house in a half-hug. Scott laughs, a brilliant smile transforming his mood, and wrestles himself away before chasing Isaac and Boyd into the house.

"How was it Sheriff?" Erica bounces up to him, full of energy.

"It was good. Though I think Scott did most of the work," he replies, grinning at her. "I hear you had a head start."

"I'd never cheat, Sheriff," she says with a flick of her hair. She sounds confident but she darts a cautious look at him, and all John can do is laugh, happy when her tentative smile breaks into a full one.

The kids get snacks and horse around in the living room, and Stiles grabs his bag of goodies from the fridge telling everyone to keep their noses to themselves. John stops in the hall by the open door long enough to eavesdrop on him and Derek when they've gone back outside.

"I'm fine, you jerk. Just go inside. No cheating."

"Stiles …"

"God, you're so annoying. I'm not going to get lost in the woods. Really."

From here, even John can see the skeptical look Derek drops on his son.

"Probably," Stiles amends. "I'll shout if I need you."

"You better."

"Like you couldn't find me anyway."

Derek huffs, but lets himself be pushed when Stiles gives him a shove. Derek rolls his eyes when he sees John watching them, but he can't quite suppress his fondness.

"How did it go?" he asks John when he comes in.

"Good. It was fun," John says for the second time. He follows Derek to the kitchen and lets him quiz him about his senses and how easy or hard it was to find the clues, while he pours them both a glass of water.

"And Scott, he was . . . he was okay?"

John sips his water and nods. "Scott was fine. He's a good kid. He was looking out for me."

* * *

It takes Stiles forty-five minutes to set up so they break for lunch before gathering for the next game. Stiles calls it a collection quest. Whoever finds the most of the items he's hidden in the woods wins.

"We'll break into pairs again," Derek says. "And let's make it interesting: stealing's allowed. So don't get caught by anyone else."

"Dibs on Erica," John says, surprising the rest of the pack. Erica bounces over to him offering a fist bump and another one of her brilliant grins which makes the boys laugh. "I figure I need the cleverest one in the bunch," he says to her, as they knock knuckles.

"I got you covered, Sheriff," she says. "They won't know what hit 'em."

John laughs.

Derek assigns the other pairs. "Boyd and Isaac, then. And Scott, you're with me," he says, barely making eye contact before moving on. "Stiles, you gonna run around out there with us?"

"Of course I am."

"All right, then. Count us off."

* * *

If the morning's game was running in more or less straight lines with your partner, the afternoon game is a rough and tumble free for all. Erica doesn't wait for John to keep up before darting off against the others. She expects him to keep up and hold up his end to win this thing with her. It's a refreshing attitude after Scott and even Derek's constant checking in.

They have secured three of the collectables -- an open bag of Fritos, and a pair of Slim Jims -- when the first attack comes. Isaac slams into Erica rolling the two of them head over heels a dozen yards down a gully. John is immediately on the lookout for Boyd, and when he emerges from the trees, more cautious, not willing to hit John, he talks him into believing that Erica holds all their loot -- then jumps in to rescue her before Boyd finishes parsing that. Erica is a scrapper and between the two of them, they get her away from Isaac and sprint for the trees. 

Erica laughs -- then shifts into her wolf form and practically springs from one hill to another while John watches in a little bit of awe. She's graceful and terrifying, and he'd be lying if he said he isn't a little of afraid of what she'll do next.

John stops at the top of a rise, barely breathing hard from the run.

"You coming or what, Sheriff? If you shift, they'll never catch up," Erica shouts from the next rise over, watching him with golden eyes and golden fur. 

Her words seem to come out of left field and land with a thud in his chest. Slipping control. If he's honest, it's the one thing John tries to avoid at all costs. But that's the point of being out here, among the pines and manzanita, smelling peat earth and Slim Jims, where the only people for miles are Derek and a handful of teenagers. If that happened out here, they're the only people he might hurt.

He stretches his hearing, easily finding Isaac and Boyd off behind them, going for another clue. In the distance he hears Stiles jogging through the leaves on the ground, and beyond him, weirdly, a sense of Derek and Scott that John can't quite explain as a sense. If he lets go . . .

"Sheriff, you okay?" Erica calls out. Almost immediately he feels everyone he's been listening for around them go still. He can't even see them, but he knows they heard Erica. Knows they're waiting for his answer. The sudden attention, even though Erica's the only one with eyes on him, feels oppressive because John's certain they'll all hear the lie in his voice if he says he is, even though he knows that's impossible from this distance. 

His heart is pounding way too fast. For the first time in a week, his senses go into overdrive. He can feel the wind in every hair on his arms, hear the sound of the road traffic on the highway miles and miles away, see the furrow on Erica's changed brow as she waits. Everything feels simultaneously up close and far away, and all he can do is hold himself together as Erica comes back for him. She's worried, he realizes belatedly, as she jogs to his side and grabs his hand without hesitation.

As soon as their fingers make contact, the world snaps back into proper focus. "Sheriff?"

Like releasing a long held breath, John grips her hand in return. "Yeah, I'm good," he says, and it isn't a lie.

It isn't just Derek and Scott who need to learn how to trust each other, he realizes, feeling a little humbled. John has to trust to. He has to trust his body, his new control, Erica and the boys to keep him safe if something does go wrong. He's not sure he's there yet.

"Okay. Well, Isaac and Boyd are heading toward Derek and Scott. Let's go help them take them out."

"I'm right behind you," John tells her, and even though he doesn't shift, he makes sure he keeps up.

* * *

John is so busy watching Erica's back and keeping a hold of their Slim Jims -- they lost the Fritos to Scott -- that he doesn't really get a chance to see how Derek and Scott are doing as partners while they're out in the woods. Ducking, weaving, then getting taken out at the knees and rolling down a hill, John hasn't, well, _played_ like this since the last time he went to a pick-up game of touch when Stiles was a toddler. It's rough and wild and absorbing, and by the end John's jeans are ripped and he's got leaves in his hair just like the rest of them. By the time Stiles calls it and they race back to the house for a bonus point, he's flying as high on adrenaline and endorphins as the kids.

Derek and Scott make out like bandits, winning because they've stolen a couple of Isaac and Boyd's items too. They both grin when Stiles declares them the winners. Scott looks surprised and raises his arms in a triumphant victory, hesitating only when he turns to Derek, with an aborted move to raise a hand in a high five, like he forgot for a moment that he's mad at Derek. Derek for his part, doesn't lose his smile, and he lightly punches Scott in the arm.

"Losers cook dinner," he says to the rest of them, face still lit up and for once looking as young as he is. "Scott and me get first showers."

Stiles bounces up to John as everyone heads toward the house. "Hey, Dad, you good?" he says in a rush of words.

"I'm fine. Everyone needs to stop asking me that," he replies. "How did Scott and Derek do?" 

Stiles steps in front of him to walk backwards. "Like a house on fire when they both want to win," he says, happy. "Scott was chiller, too, when they headed out. Did you say something to him?"

John catches Stiles before he trips on the porch steps. "I'm glad they're working through it," he says without answering. "What's for dinner?"

They're in a house full of werewolves now, so Stiles doesn't push it, and they fall in to take over cooking spaghetti and meatballs with the others. The house is loud and chaotic, like the woods had been. They cycle through showers and setting the table, jostling and getting in each other's way, though John gets an extra layer of respect from everyone except Stiles. Erica jumps on Derek's back when he comes in, and Isaac hip checks Scott before dashing out and up the stairs in a race against Boyd for the next turn in the bathroom.

Every once in a while John catches someone looking at everyone else a little startled. Derek does it when Erica lands on him. Scott does it when Derek hands him the plates from the high shelf in the cabinet. Erica when Stiles has her help him with the sauce, Boyd when he and John and Scott set the table and are out of the kitchen for a minute. John feels it himself when Isaac smiles at him shyly and tells him the shower is free. It's like none of them can quite believe that they're there, together after a fun day. Like happiness has snuck up on them without any of them being prepared.

* * *

Later, after dinner and a fight over what movie to watch, and now they're lazily arguing over the next one, John joins Derek in the kitchen. It's past eleven but no one wants to go home.

Derek is getting a mug from the cabinet and he raises his eyebrow at John in a silent question. John nods, and watches while Derek makes them both tea in the microwave.

"How was working with Scott?" he asks softly, when they're settled at the kitchen table with their drinks.

Derek blows out a breath and sits back in his chair. "All right, I guess," he says. "We didn't fight. We didn't really talk either."

"That's a start," John says.

"Yeah," Derek says, the word drawing out, like he's realizing that it's progress from yelling at each other and that it's enough for now. He takes a sip of his tea, and then his focus shifts to John. "How are you? It felt like you freaked out there for a minute."

John sighs, wondering for a moment what he means by "felt" when Derek had been so far away. He contemplates for a split second saying everything is fine, but finds that he doesn't want to. Trust has to go both ways, and as good as this week has been with his senses, John's still settling in to what being a werewolf means. His words to Scott earlier notwithstanding, today has only reminded him that he's still got a long way to go before he's comfortable with his new existence.

"Erica asked me to change so we could run faster. All I could think about was that night I was turned and I was out of control," he says softly.

"You'll learn control," Derek says with quiet confidence. "They did." He nods toward the kids in the living room.

"Doesn't make me less nervous," John smiles wryly. Then, because Derek needs to hear it as much as he needs to say it. "I'm going to need your help practicing."

Derek nods, his eyes solemn. John nods too, and that's the end of talking about. They fall into a comfortable silence with their tea, listening to the teenagers in the other room argue. 

It's nothing like the family life John once imagined for himself when he was their age, but as the warmth of the evening settles into his bones and evens out the worries he has about the kids, Derek, work, and the underlying fear he still has for what all this means for himself and Stiles, he'll take it.


End file.
